


Building Bridges Over Walls

by Birdpeople (DeusExMachina)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Fuck the canon timeline I don't give a fuck, Implied Sexual Content, Like there's kinda sexy stuff but I was like I NEED TO GET BACK TO THE PLOT so it's like yeah, M/M, Self-Doubt, Slow Burn, Stiles and Scott have a lot of heart-to-hearts, Stiles is supposed to be 17/18, The pack has a betting pool based around Stiles and Derek, minor depictions of violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-13
Updated: 2015-07-13
Packaged: 2018-04-09 05:06:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4334963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeusExMachina/pseuds/Birdpeople
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Scott smacked him on the shoulder. "I’m trying to be supportive. Why do you always put yourself down? Don’t you know what all of us,” he gestures to himself, presumably to indicate all of werewolf-kind, “See when we look at you?”</p><p>“A skinny nerd who drinks too much caffeine and jerks off to pictures of their alpha?” Deflect, deflect, oh god, deflect.</p><p>Scott made a face. “Ew. And no. Peter offered you the bite, right? And what did you say to him?”</p><p>“Blow it out your ear?”</p><p>“Yeah!” Scott sat up, apparently unable to contain what he was bursting to say. “That’s the real difference between you and us. We had our problems, most of us, and when we were offered the magic pill, we all said yes. But you said no.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Building Bridges Over Walls

“You should ask him out.”

 

“Scott, I know you don’t really get ADHD, so let me spell it out for you: I. Am not. A mind reader.”

 

Scott blew his straw wrapper at Stiles’ face and he swatted it away. “You know who I mean. The only person you’ve been checking out for the last couple of months.”

 

Stiles sighed and opened his juice carton. The ambient cafeteria noise swallowed the sound. “I’m surprised you noticed, with how you’ve been tonsils-deep in your girlfriend for the last however-long.”

 

“Not just tonsils,” Scott said, so casually that there was the briefest hesitation before Stiles choked and started coughing.

 

“ _What_?” He said in a hoarse whisper. “Since when? And when were you gonna tell me?”

 

Scott shrugged.

 

“See, this,” Stiles waved a hand to indicate the empty air between his best friend and him, “This is weird. You’ve _never_ not told me stuff like that. Something’s changed, man.”

 

“Yeah, me, every full moon.”

 

Stiles flicked a kernel of corn at Scott. “That’s not funny,” he said, voice low. “I feel left out. You’re going places I can’t follow, and unlike you, with your brand-y new pack, I don’t have anyone else to fall back on.”

 

Scott looked surprised. “Sure you do. What about Lydia? Or Danny?” Stiles shrugged, uncomfortable.

 

“I’m not super close with either of them. And anyway, they don’t know what’s been going on with you. It’s not like I can out you by confiding in them.”

 

Scott was pensive. “But there’s no reason that you shouldn’t be friends with Derek’s pack, too,” he said finally. “After all, it would get you closer to Derek-”

 

“Stop,” Stiles snapped. “It’s never gonna happen.”

 

“Well not if you cut yourself off at the knees.” Scott stood up, slinging his backpack over his shoulder and gathering up his trash. “We’re having a get-together soon. Nothing wolfy, I swear. Just like. Board games. And you’re coming.”

 

\---

 

Stiles shivered and wrapped his sweater tighter around himself. It should have made him feel secure, but the tension of the fabric just served to underscore the way he had isolated himself at the very end of the couch.

 

He just couldn’t stop his eyes following Derek. He had finally shut them after Scott had progressed from shooting him Worried Looks to Do You Want to Leave looks.

 

He started in surprise as someone dropped something heavy over him. Derek stood over him, face perfectly neutral. “Some of these pups forget that even a little bit of cold can get into your bones,” he said.

 

Stiles dragged the blanket around his shoulders. “Why Derek, you’re a poet and I didn’t even know it.” He smiled tentatively.

 

Derek rolled his eyes. “You can come closer, if you want. No one thinks you don’t belong here except you.”

 

Stiles’ eyes slid away from Derek’s and he could feel his smile suffering under the weight of a grimace. “It doesn’t matter what they think,” he muttered. “They _know_ I don’t belong. So do I. So do you. There are things I just don’t have in common with them anymore, even Scott.” There was a burst of laughter and encouraging chanting from the other side of the loft. Isaac was standing, grinning sheepishly.

 

Derek shrugged and made to rejoin the others. “Have it your way. But the view is better from there.”

 

Stiles flushed. Had Derek seen Stiles looking? He closed his eyes and buried himself in the blanket. It smelled clean and well-cared-for. Not a relic from the burned-out shell, then. Something new.

 

\---

 

Stiles dragged the blanket with him, dropped down heavily next to Scott and leaned his head on his friend’s shoulder. Erica cheered and Stiles gave her a genuine smile in return.

 

“So, who’s winning?”

 

“Right now, you are.” Stiles detected a distinctly feral glint to Erica’s grin. “Truth or dare?”

 

Stiles subtly pinched Scott for not warning him. Truth was too much of a risk at this point, with Derek seated so near. He had his bare feet tucked under him as he read, clearly not participating, but not isolating himself as Stiles had. Stiles’ heart was beating harder than normal. Boyd gave him a calculating look. “Dare.”

 

“I dare yoouuuuu,” Erica looked around, lips pursed. “To kiss the person you’d most want to be stranded on a desert island with.”

 

“Oh come on, that’s like three things in one,” Stiles grumbled. “Too easy, anyway.” He looks at Scott. “Bro?” Scott daintily extended a hand and Stiles kissed it, formally and with great pomp. As he looked up he just caught Derek returning his eyes to his book. He was impassive as ever, but that tiny flicker of- interest? disappointment?- niggled at Stiles for the rest of the evening.

 

\---

 

“And then Allison told me-”

 

“Why do we always talk about _your_ love life?” Stiles complained, swatting Scott with one of his own pillows. “I miss when we were both single and would just whine about it. Now I have to suffer through it alone.” He flopped back so his head hung upside-down off the edge of Scott’s bed.

 

“You always deflect when I try to talk about your love life.”

 

“Or lack thereof.”

 

“Exactly.”

 

“What do you want me to say? That Derek Hale has an ass that just doesn’t quit? That he’ll never go for me because he’s basically perfect and I’m an annoying little shit? That there’s a power imbalance between the two of us because he’s, y’know, a _werewolf_ and I can’t even make first string in high school lacrosse?”

 

“Sure,” Scott said, lying down on his stomach next to Stiles. “Let’s talk about why you think you have no chance with him.”

 

“See previous comments.”

 

“Stiles,” Scott said patiently. “We were both losers for most of our lives.”

 

“An argument can be made that some of us are still losers,” Stiles said, raising a hand so that it stuck straight up in the air.

 

Scott charitably ignored that. “What I’m trying to say is, you’re too much inside yourself. You don’t see the whole picture. If you’re a loser, then so am I.”

 

Stiles snorted. “No you’re not. You’re all confident and shit. Actually trying to do something with your life while I’m off chasing police calls.”

 

Scott tsked impatiently. “Nothing about me is different, Stiles. I run faster and smell better, but that’s it.”

 

“And that second part is still up for debate.” Scott poked Stiles in the side and he squirmed away.  


“Maybe _you’re_ too much inside yourself, dude. Because you have changed.” Stiles scooted down until his head was no longer hanging off the bed. He laced his fingers behind his head. “You seem older. You have your shit together a little more. And it shows. _And_ being first string means people are starting to notice how ridiculously good-looking you’ve always been.”

 

“Aw, you’re gonna make me blush.”

 

Stiles shrugged at the ceiling and didn’t speak.

 

“But you’ve got plenty going for you,” Scott persisted. “You’re smart-”

 

“Wikipedia.”

 

“-Resourceful-”

 

“Wikipedia.”

 

“And have a great personality.”

 

“Pornhub.”

 

Scott smacked him on the shoulder. “Previous comment retracted. I’m trying to be supportive. Why do you always put yourself down? Don’t you know what all of us,” he gestures to himself, presumably to indicate all of werewolf-kind, “See when we look at you?”

 

“A skinny nerd who drinks too much caffeine and jerks off to pictures of their alpha?” Deflect, deflect, oh god, deflect.

 

Scott made a face. “Ew. And no. Peter offered you the bite, right? And what did you say to him?”

 

“Blow it out your ear?”

 

“Yeah!” Scott sat up, apparently unable to contain what he was bursting to say. “That’s the real difference between you and us. We had our problems, most of us, and when we were offered the magic pill, we all said yes. But you said no. You chose to deal with your problems yourself.”

 

“Not all of you said yes,” Stiles said slowly. “You didn’t get a choice. And Isaac- if he hadn’t been given the out, he would have tried to run away and ended up dead in a ditch somewhere. I can’t exactly compare my bottom-of-the- high school-food-chain woes to his.”

 

“If Peter had offered to me that night, I would have said yes,” Scott said steadily.

 

Stiles covered his face, groaning. “You don’t get it. Turning down the bite was probably the dumbest thing I have ever done.”

 

“More like the bravest.”

 

“You think I’m hot shit for not wanting to be Mister gets-the-girl? I’ve been wanting what you have since the beginning. But I was dead scared. Too scared to commit. Too scared to say yes to something when there’s no going back. Who cares if humanity is worth anything? I chose it over power. That makes me weak.”

 

“That makes you wise. Why don’t you see it that way?’

 

“I try not to think about it too much. You’ve always reminded me not to torture myself with stuff like that.”

 

Scott looked ashamed. “Clearly I haven’t been telling you that enough lately.” He hesitated. “Even if you don’t see it yourself, can you at least accept what I’ve said is true? That we don’t think any worse of you for being human?”

 

Stiles shrugged. “You’re all still human. Just a little better than the rest of us.”

 

Scott’s eyes hardened and he shoved Stiles a little harder than he would have ordinarily. “Then prove it. If I’m so much better, lose to me at Mario Kart.”

 

He was baiting Stiles, lightening the mood. But Stiles didn’t care. He was ready to let go for a while. “In your dreams. You’re going down, McCall.”

 

\---

 

In the end, Derek approached Stiles. It was another get-together. In addition to the regulars of Chez Hale, Allison was there, courtesy of Scott, and Lydia and Jackson were there, courtesy of Allison. Danny was there as a curious onlooker, who had been curiously onlooking at Derek a little more than Stiles was strictly happy about. Not that he had a right to be jealous.

 

 _Coward_ , Stiles silently reprimanded himself. While everyone was loudly trying to decide on a movie, and Jackson had just pretty much sealed the deal on it being it something Disney- _“Aren’t we too old for that cartoon shit?”_ \- Derek quietly asked Stiles to help him with popcorn.

 

Derek definitely did not need help with popcorn. Stiles jittered restlessly, surprised when Derek actually did ask him to help work the air popper.

 

“I’ve never used it before,” he explained. “My sister got it for me last Christmas.”

 

“Last Christmas? But Laura-”

 

“I have another sister. Younger. Her name is Cora.”

 

“Oh. Right.” Stupid, stupid, how does that foot taste, genius? “Do you have a brother named Schmerek?”

 

Derek actually cracked a smile at that. Stiles felt his heart rapidly fill with warmth until it overflowed. “No, but every year my extended family would hold a holiday contest. We’d make up poems and songs about family members and vote on the best ones. Cora and Laura were the easiest, but mom always got the most dedications.”

 

Stiles knew he was smiling, mirroring Derek’s nostalgic expression. “So this,” Stiles jerks his thumb toward the hubbub issuing from the next room, “You’re saying you’re used to it?”

 

Derek shrugged. “My house was always full of people, growing up. After the fire, I was alone for a long time. I think part of that was me. I didn’t want to enjoy life. I punished myself with loneliness. I think I’m trying to learn to be around other people again.”

 

“Well you’re doing a pretty good job.” Derek looked at Stiles, surprised. “They look up to you.”

 

Derek’s expression turned searching. His eyes flicked back and forth between Stiles’. “Thank you,” he said, at last.

 

Stiles shrugged. “I’m not very tall, so it’s hard to get people to look up to me. I respect people who can pull it off.” Picking up the bowl of popcorn, he carried it out to the others, leaving Derek to fumble with cups.

 

\---

 

After that, Stiles started coming to more of the pack get-togethers. _I’m doing it for Derek_ , he thought. _He trusted me with his personal stuff. I’m helping him socialize._

 

 _Or you can’t stay away from him and you’re totally fucked_. Well, that too.

 

It was after he had had to miss a meeting to work on an essay, one of those horrendous you’re-almost-in-college-so-I-expect-this-at-midnight deals. He had sent the monster to the teacher at a quarter past one and had promptly fallen asleep at his desk.

 

He was woken a few hours later by a light scratching at the window.

 

He tensed, relaxing when he saw who it was. He, unglued his cheek from the drool on his notes, uncricked his neck, and threw open the window, standing back to let Derek climb through. Derek did not climb through, however. He stayed crouched on the roof, looking unhappy and somewhat lost.

 

“Dude, I was having the weirdest dream that this werewolf came and broke into my house while I was asleep and- oh wait,” he smacked himself on the forehead.

 

Derek’s eyes were darting around, nervous, on edge.

 

“You can relax, my dad isn’t home.”

 

“I just came to make sure you were okay.”

 

“What?” Stiles was perplexed. “You mean the meeting? Sorry I had to miss it, but I had a huge paper- Scott didn’t tell you?”

 

“Must have slipped his mind.” Derek looked at Stiles, who was uncomfortably aware of how wrecked he must look after sleeping at his desk.

 

“I don’t have your number,” Stiles blurted. Bemused, Derek handed Stiles his phone, and Stiles texted himself. Across the room, his phone lit up and buzzed. He handed Derek his phone back. “Save my contact as something rad, like '360NoScope'. Anyway, now I can text you if I need to miss a meeting.”

 

Derek nodded. “Alright.” He hesitated. “It can be dangerous, running with wolves. Especially for humans.” He voice was soft, pleading. “My mom had some human contacts. I had known them for years when I was little, but one of them slipped up, just once, and they all-” he swallowed.

 

Impulsively, Stiles reached out, and Derek gripped his hand, hard. “I’m okay, Derek, really.”

 

Derek jerked his head. “But one day, you might not be. Promise to call me when that day comes?”

 

“Promise,” Stiles said solemnly. “But to be honest, now I have your number I’m definitely gonna pester you with cat pictures while I’m in Chem.”

 

Stiles could have sworn that Derek almost smiled.

 

\---

 

“So I had a visit last night.” Scott looked blank. “From Derek.”

 

“Oh. Did he do the creepy ‘I am a creature of the night, where we’re going, we don’t need doors’ thing?”

 

Stiles deflated a little. “You mean he’s done that before?”

 

“Yeah, sometimes. What did he want?”

 

“To make sure I was okay.”

 

Scott tilted his head. “Are you?”

 

“What do you mean, you know exactly how I’m doing.”

 

Scott shrugged. “You keep involving yourself in werewolf stuff.” It was true. Stiles had started hanging around during the wolves’ training sessions. He was picking up little things here and there, but so far he had judged that it would be a bad idea for him to spar with one of the wolves. Maybe Derek, as he was probably the only one who could control himself enough to move quickly and still pull his punches enough to not break Stiles.

 

“And?”

 

“I wouldn’t have been surprised if Derek went to you last night to offer you an out.”

 

Stiles considered that. “He did warn me that just being around you guys could be dangerous,” he said slowly. “But he didn’t tell me I should stop. Just that I should ask for help when I need it.”

 

“What does that mean?”

 

“He thinks it’s inevitable that I will be needing help, I guess.” Stiles shrugged, uncomfortable.

 

“Or that he doesn’t want you to leave. Selfish as that might be. I mean, _I_ know it’s dangerous for you, but I don’t want you to leave, either.”

 

“And you know me well enough to know telling me to stay away from the action won’t work.”

 

“That too.”

 

\---

 

Next time Stiles showed up to a training practice, he gently pulled Derek aside, aware that everyone in the room had super hearing and was tactfully pretending not to.

 

“Can you train me?” Derek looked surprised, then relieved.

 

“Okay. Stick around afterwards.”

 

Stiles went and sat down, getting out his laptop to wait out the session. He was halfway through the Sparknotes on his English assignment when he looked up. He was alone with Derek, and what sunlight he could see was low and red.

 

He set down his computer and went to Derek, who was waiting for him.

 

“Ready?” Derek asked. Stiles nodded and assumed the position that the others always did at the start of a session. Derek moved around, correcting him with light touches that sent shivers racing through Stiles’ body.

 

“I’m showing you something a little different from the others,” he said. “You’d need to conserve your energy in a fight, and you can’t fall back on just taking hits the way they can.” So it began.

 

\---

 

Stiles parked in the school lot. As Scott made to climb out, Stiles put a hand on his arm. “Hypothetically, how would I go about asking someone out?”

 

Scott turned around so fast, it must have hurt his neck. “Thought you’d never ask. So you’re finally getting off your ass about this?”

 

“I already regret coming to you, dude.” Stiles folded his arms, shoulders hunched. “I just want to get to know him better.”

 

“Well I’d say ask him to tutor you, seeing as that’s what worked for me,” Scott said, struggling not to grin and failing spectacularly.

 

“Been there, done that. But fight club training means not much time to just chill, and by the end I’m always a sweaty mess.”

 

“So ask him if he wants to chill.”

 

Stiles rolled his eyes. “He’ll ask me why.”

 

“Then tell him the truth.”

 

“That I’m carrying a torch for him?”

 

“That might be a little too forward. Say you want to spend time with him.”

 

“You make it sound so easy.”

 

“It _is_ easy. Just treat him like a person. Flirting is just talking.”

 

Stiles shrugged and opened the door. “We’ll see.”

 

\---

 

In the end, he couldn’t handle the prospect of face-to-face rejection, so he texted Derek.

 

**> Want to hang out?**

**> Why?**

 

Stiles gritted his teeth. Fucking _told_ you, Scott.

 

**> I miss your warm and sunny personality, **

**of course. ;)**

**> Haha.**

**> What did you have in mind?**

**> Have you seen the new Avengers movie?**

**> Obviously. Do I live under a rock?**

**> Want to watch it again with commentary **

**a la Stilinski?**

There was an endless period of seconds. Stiles ripped at his nails with his teeth.

 

**> Sure. **

**> My place or yours?**

**> Mine. You can even use the front door**

**this time.**

**> I’d like that.**

**> Aw, you’re picking up sarcasm! **

**I’m so proud.**

**> Please. I’ve been a master of dry wit for years.**

**> Suuuure you have. ;))**

\---

 

“It was nice,” Stiles concluded.

 

“That’s it? Did you guys even kiss?”

 

“Wh- no!” Stiles could feel his face heating up.

 

Scott snorted. “You act like kissing is the most scandalous thing ever, but I know for a fact you’ve done it before.”

 

“Oh yeah?”

 

“Yeah. At that girl’s birthday party, the one you had a crush on for like five seconds in middle school before you met Lydia. And I _know_ you lied to me about not making out with Danny.”

 

Stiles shrugged. “Man knows what he’s doing.”

 

“But somehow with Derek-”

 

“It’s different.” Stiles said. “And maybe it would be this way with someone like Lydia, too, where there are actual feelings involved, but I don’t want this to be just a hook up.”

 

Scott stared at him. “Do you know what ‘hook up’ means?”

 

“Um,” Stiles rubbed his arm. “Just like, kissing, right?”

 

Scott shrugged. “Sure, whatever. Go on. Something about how you want to date the hell out of Derek and woo him and have his adopted babies?”

 

“More or less.”

 

Scott punched the air. “Well you’d better hurry up, because the others and I have a running bet on how long it’ll be before one of us walks in on you doing unspeakable things to each other.”

 

Stiles punched him in the arm. “Dick! That’s not funny!”

 

\---

 

**> Did you know your cubs have a betting **

**pool on how long it takes us to get together?**

**> I think it’s actually on how long it is before**

**they walk in on us doing it.**

**> Why am I the last to know about this?!?!**

**> I assumed Scott would have told you. :P**

**> He did….**

**> So what’s the problem?**

**> Nothing. I just think it’s creepy and invasive.**

**> Want me to tell them to cut it out?**

**> Nah, then they’d assume we’ve already done it.**

**> Yeah….**

**> Want to hang out?**

**> What did you have in mind?**

**> How do you feel about Political Dramas?**

**> Like House of Cards?**

**> More like Political Animals.**

**> More crying and Sebastian Stan.**

**> Never seen it, but I’d be down.**

**> Cool. Your place?**

**> Roger that.**

**> <3**

Stiles stared at the little heart. He hadn’t meant to send it. Had he? He felt the compulsive urge to ask Derek what they were to each other, and a simultaneous anxiety about what the answer would be.

 

In his agonizing, he almost missed Derek’s reply.

 

**> <3**

Oh, fuck yes.

 

\---

 

Stiles was showing Derek out the door when it happened. Derek leaned down the tiniest bit, paused, looked at Stiles. Stiles nodded and met him in the middle. They kissed briefly, chastely. Stiles could hear his own heartbeat in his ears. He put a hand to the back of Derek’s neck.

 

“You okay?” Derek asked softly.

 

“I will be once we do that again.”

 

Derek smiled. “That can be arranged.” He got Stiles turned around somehow and pressed him up against the door, gently, insistently, and kissed him. This time, Stiles opened his mouth, and it was dizzying and blissful and when they parted, Stiles’ face was flushed.

 

“Holy shit.”

 

Derek’s smile was somewhat abashed. “I’ve been wanting to do that for a long time.”

 

“Holy shit,” Stiles said again, as all other words seemed to have fled.

 

“I know you want to take things slow-”

 

“Fuck that,” Stiles said vehemently. “I just wanted to get to know you before I jumped your bones.” Now it was Derek’s turn to flush, but Stiles kept going. “I’m perfectly willing to not take things so slow, but I like hanging out with you, and I like getting to know you slowly.”

 

“Well I like you. And I like getting to know you, too. I just was wondering if you were okay with getting to know each other in… other ways.”

 

“I am 100% on board with that.” Stiles leaned up and kissed Derek slowly, before breaking away, apologetic. “But not tonight.”

 

“No, of course. It doesn’t even have to be soon. I just figured, if you want to, we could talk about it.”

 

Stiles gave Derek a weird smile. “I’m not sure why I ever thought being stoic meant you were bad at communicating.”

 

Derek rolled his eyes. His hands were still resting on Stiles’ hips. “I _am_ bad at communicating. This is me trying to be responsible.”

 

“Well I think it’s hot.”

 

“You’re going to be insatiable, aren’t you?”

 

“What can I say,” Stiles said. “I’m already hooked.”

 

\---

 

Between studying for the SATS, lacrosse practice, and pack meetings, Stiles and Derek didn’t have much alone time. What they did was mostly just end-of-a-long-day stuff. Talking quietly, watching TV, occasionally just filling the silences with making out or lying on Derek’s couch together, fingertips tracing exposed skin or, in Stiles’ case, sneakily exposing new skin to explore.

 

It was nice. It was new. It made sense.

 

Stiles was still coming to the pack meetings, had vastly improved in his one-on-one training sessions with Derek, was seeing Scott less and less, although they regularly exchanged Significant Other news and Scott teased Stiles mercilessly for how he and Derek acted like they were already married.

 

“What do you see in me?” Stiles had asked Derek one rainy Sunday afternoon. He was supposedly studying, but in reality had let his focus drift to Derek. Gorgeous Derek, with his tight-fitting jeans and bared forearms and _reading glasses_ because he apparently was comfortable enough with Stiles that he didn’t feel the need to wear contacts.

 

Derek put down his book and drifted over to straddle Stiles, who moved to accommodate him, setting down his own work. Derek knew by now that when Stiles got like this, it was physical closeness he wanted even more than affirmation. Derek cupped Stiles’ face and leaned their foreheads together.

 

“I just like you for your body,” Derek admitted, and Stiles smacked his chest, grinning. He left his hand there, matching his breathing to Derek’s heartbeat.

 

“Really.”

 

“Really, what do I see in you?” Stiles hummed. “Um, let me think,” Derek pulled a face. “First of all, you take no shit, not even from people you’re scared of, which is really hot.”

 

“Why thank you. I assume you’re talking about the bratty way I talked to you when I first met you?”

 

“Mm, maybe.”

 

“Okay?”

 

“Secondly, you’re smart.”

 

“Wikipedia. It’s always Wikipedia.”

 

Derek rolled his eyes. “I don’t know whether to file that under humility or low self-esteem. Half the time you’re like, ‘I’m Batman! I am the shit!’ and the other half you’re all self-deprecating. I’ve been figuring you’re trying to fake it ‘till you make it, and that’s fine by me. But don’t put yourself down. That’s my _boyfriend_ you’re insulting.”

 

Stiles’ heart rate sped up, even as he made a face. “ _Boyfriend_?”

 

“Yes Stiles,” Derek said smugly. “And don’t tell me you don’t like how it sounds, I know when you’re lying.”

 

Stiles slid his hands around Derek’s ass and squeezed. “Boyfriend,” he said musingly.

 

Derek leaned in and kissed him hungrily. “I think we got a little off-topic,” Derek said as he broke away. “But anyway, thirdly-” Stiles groaned. Derek kissed him briefly to shut him up. “-you’re brave.”

 

Stiles rolled his eyes. “Let me guess, I turned down the bite, so that makes me brave.”

 

Derek hesitated. “That’s not the only reason. You stick around. You’ve met Peter. You know how bad things can get. But you stayed. Not only that, you worked hard to make it, and you’ve helped us more times than I can thank you for.”

 

Stiles made to object. “Don’t argue with me,” Derek said, and there was a hint of growl in his voice that send a shiver down Stiles’ spine. He let his head rest against the back of the couch as Derek once more held Stiles’ face in his hands and kissed him ardently, like he was aching for it.

 

Stiles shifted his hips as best as he could. Even with Derek supporting most of his own weight, Stiles was still effectively pinned, and it was starting to get somewhat uncomfortable in the pants department. He would have been embarrassed, but he could feel Derek’s matching semi against his hip.

 

“Is this happening right now?” Stiles panted, groaning as Derek moved to suck a bruise into his collarbone.

 

Derek’s stubble scratched against Stiles’ throat and shitfuck that felt way better than it should have. “Something is definitely happening right now,” Derek said, low and smooth, right by his ear. Stiles bit back a moan. “Let me know if you want to stop or take a breather.” Stiles felt Derek unzip his jeans. Relief. But still an insistent ache of a different kind.

 

“Probably not gonna be an issue,” Stiles gasped. Derek bit his earlobe and Stiles palmed Derek’s ass again.

 

\---

 

This was probably inevitable. Stiles was just glad the baddies had managed to hold themselves back long enough for Derek to teach Stiles some self defense. He knew he had split the skin over some of his knuckles, and they would be mottled with bruises within hours, but in the damp darkness, he couldn’t exactly inspect them. And he had definitely gotten off easier than he should have. If there hadn’t been four of them, and he hadn’t been so freaked out by the lady with the toenails, and if they hadn’t eventually knocked him unconscious, he might possibly have stood a fighting chance of _not_ being captured and locked in a basement.

 

Oh, who was he kidding? He was just glad he still had all of his teeth.

 

He groped around in the darkness, familiarizing himself with the dimensions of the room. The walls felt like rough concrete. It took a couple of circuits crawling on his hands and knees before Stiles decided to risk standing up.

 

Frantically pawing cobwebs out of his face, he walked another circuit, this time focusing on finding the door. Then he walked himself to one of the corners opposite the door and sat with his back to the walls, arms around his knees, and settled in to think.

 

The first thing he thought was, _I’m so glad I shoved my phone in my pants as soon as the fighting started._ He second thought was, _My phone is a light source, why didn’t I use that to take a look around?_

 

He pulled it out and turned on the flashlight. The room was a lot smaller than it had seemed: a little ten foot-by-ten foot box, if he was any judge.

 

_Why did they leave me my phone?_

 

_Um, maybe because it was down your pants? Or because they threw you in a concrete basement with no signal?_

_Thank god I’m here and not Isaac._

_I wonder if Derek got my text._ The one he had sent from the trunk of the car, once he had woken up. God, he hoped so. The glowing numbers on his phone told him he had been taken about four hours ago. Derek must be frantic by now. Not to mention Scott.

 

He should really conserve battery.

 

He played Flappy Bird until he was at twenty percent, and then turned it off, leaving him alone in the dark, with nothing to do.

 

\---

 

He may have slept. He couldn’t tell though, because there was no light in his dreams, and no light when he opened his eyes. Until there was inexplicably a blinding streak of it. He squinted. The lady with the toenails had opened the door. What-?

 

\---

 

Pain. Pain in his wrists where he was bound, pain in his diaphragm where the potato-looking Heavy had just punched him, pain in his heart, because it had surely been more than six hours and he was the sheriff’s kid and his friends were werewolves and _where were they_?

 

Someone was talking to him. A blind man. The sort who would be a silver fox if he got a decent haircut. Would Derek still be that attractive at this guy’s age? Who was Stiles kidding, Derek probably ceased to be unattractive forever the moment he hit puberty.

 

Stiles received another blow to the stomach. He gasped for air, straining against his bindings.

 

“Well?”

 

“Sorry, could you repeat the question? I was miles away.” Stiles got a backhand to the face for his troubles. He tried to spit out the blood that was pooling in his mouth, but merely succeeded in letting it dribble down his face.

 

“What is Derek Hale planning?”

 

“Zombies,” Stiles said. “Definitely something with zombies. And a dragon? I know there’s a dragon in the yellow pages. She does kids’ parties. I think Derek’s throwing a Monster Mash-type deal.” Stiles grinned. He hoped his bloody teeth looked cool.

 

The Heavy slapped him again. Stiles’ ears rung. He wondered if the silver fox had told the Heavy that a real punch would probably knock Stiles out again. Or break his skull.

 

“He doesn’t know anything.” A clicking noise announced the arrival of Toenails lady.

 

“He could.”

 

“What would Hale tell to a _human_ ,” the woman asked contemptuously. “He’s just bait. We should throw him back in the basement.”

 

_Who the fuck are these guys? You’d better bring backup, Derek._

“No.” Someone stepped into view. Stiles squinted. When he had been taken down, he hadn’t gotten a good look at this guy, but he recognized him.

 

“Heya Aiden! Or is it Ethan?” The guy flinched. Apparently he hadn’t counted on Stiles being able to ID him. “Where’s the other one? I thought you two were a matched set.”

 

“On a date,” he mumbled, and Stiles grinned at the lack of deportment. Clearly it was this guy’s first interrogation.

 

“Good for him! Is he getting some?”

 

He took a step forward. “I could ask the same thing about you and Derek.”

 

Stiles snorted, but he was sure his heart was giving him away. “I should be so lucky.”

 

“It seems you have been.” EthanorAiden stepped forward, nostils flared. “We can all smell him on you.”

 

Stiles’ stomach lurched. He wished the Heavy would go back to beating him up.

 

Silver fox turned to Toenails. “So you see, Derek Hale is capable of confiding in humans.”

 

Toenails snorted. “He’s weak like that. And he’s fallen for them before, so I guess I shouldn’t be surprised.”

 

“Hey,” said Stiles weakly. No one was listening to him. “ _Hey_ ,” He tried again. “That’s my _boyfriend_ you’re insulting.”

 

“Yeah?” EthanorAiden sneered. “What are you gonna do about it?”

 

“Um, I hadn’t actually thought that far. I guess I’ll just sit here and be angry.”

 

Silver Fox made a sign to the Heavy and he approached Stiles once more, looking menacing. Stiles smiled at his cheekily. “At last we meet again,” he managed, before the other punched him, rocking his head back with the force of it. He thankfully succumbed to the darkness.

 

\---

 

When he came to, it was to an awful din. He moaned. He head was throbbing and his wrists still chafed. Still bound, then. He just wished everyone stop yelling and… exploding? His eyes cracked open. Through the dust, the scene looked like something Bosch would have been proud of. Darting bodies, confusion, screaming, way more blood than Stiles was strictly comfortable and- was that Allison with a crossbow? Badass. Stiles shut his eyes again. He figured he should be trying to make a break for it, but on the other hand, waiting this out and hoping not to get killed in the crossfire seemed like a pretty good option, too.

 

Someone was digging at his ropes. He tried to crane back to see who it was, and discovered Boyd, working intently. “Hey Boyd,” Stiles said.

 

“Hey, yourself. You look like shit.”

 

“No offense, but I always look like this.”

 

Boyd snorted. “Derek was completely frantic when he got your text, by the way.”

 

“Aw, he’s so sweet.”

 

“Have you two done it yet?”

 

“What does it matter? I thought the bet depended on one of you guys walking in on us.”

 

“It does. I’m asking for a friend.”

 

“Sure you are.” Stiles felt the ropes fall away. As Boyd helped Stiles to his feet, he was painfully and intimately reminded of all of the abuse his body had suffered in the last few hours. He groaned.

 

Boyd shot him a sidelong look. “We should get you out of here.”

 

“Right.”

 

“You really look like shit.”

 

“Noted.”

 

“You okay?”

 

“I will be.”

 

Boyd nodded, leading Stiles. Within a minute they were outside, and Stiles was leaning against Derek’s Camaro, feeling pathetic and sorry for himself, but infinitely relieved to be out of that place.

 

“So Allison-?”

 

“What about her?”

 

She’s a badass amazon warrior? Apparently? “Nothing. Nevermind.”

 

“I should probably go back and help.”

 

“Yeah, okay. I’ll probably see you later.” Boyd briefly squeezed Stiles’ shoulder. It hurt, but at least it was a good hurt.

 

\---

 

Stiles called his father on the ride home, his own phone having died when he tried to turn it on.

 

“Yeah dad, I’m okay. No, I was with Scott since after practice. No, I know it’s a school night. Please don’t ground me. I will be in school tomorrow and come straight home after practice, okay? Promise. Okay. Thanks. Love you, bye.” He hung up. Looked over at Derek, who was tense. “Can I stay at your place tonight?”

 

Derek nodded.

 

\---

 

Derek insisted on cleaning Stiles up himself. Before he could lift Stiles’ shirt, however, Stiles stopped him. “Just take a beat,” he said. Derek backed off. They hadn’t talked on the ride home.

 

“This was not your fault,” Stiles said.

 

“Then whose fault was it?” Derek’s voice was curiously calm.

 

“Um, the weirdos who kidnapped me? Obviously?” Stiles shook his head. The dizzying role-reversal was messing with him. It was difficult not to parrot Derek’s usual words of comfort back to him. “You didn’t coerce me into loving you,” Stiles said softly.

 

At the L-word, Derek met Stiles’ eyes. “I love you too.” It was naked, honest. “I was scared.”

 

Stiles spread his arms. “Here I am.” Derek shuddered and hugged Stiles, reducing the pressure when Stiles tensed up. His ribs were gonna be tender for a while.

 

Derek put his face in Stiles’ hair and they stood, hugging each other in the middle of Derek’s loft bathroom.

 

“This could happen again.”

 

“If you suggest we break up, I’m sleeping on the couch tonight.”

 

“You’re banishing yourself?”

 

“Okay, you’re sleeping on the couch.”

 

“This is my house.”

 

“We’ll _both_ sleep on _separate_ couches.”

 

“I wasn’t going to suggest we break up.” Derek drew back to look Stiles in the eye.

 

“Oh. Good. No offense to your couches, but I like your bed better. Especially when you’re there. Stop me whenever.”

 

Derek guided Stiles to sit on the edge of the tub. “Wouldn’t if I could.”

 

“That’s why I love you.” It felt so easy, now he had said it the first time. Derek smiled.

 

He abruptly stopped smiling when he got Stiles’ shirt off and saw the bruising mottling his ribs and stomach. Stiles crossed his arms, feeling self-conscious and guilty for making Derek worry. “How you going to explain this to your dad?”

 

“Uh, I’m not? He won’t see.”

 

“I can tell by the way you walk that it hurts.”

 

“But can you tell that I’m a woman’s man and I have no time to talk?”

 

“Stiles.”

 

“Derek.”

 

“He’ll notice the bruises on your face and hands, though.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“What will you tell him?” Derek repeated.

 

“That I got into a fight, probably. Or that I joined a fight club, but that wouldn’t fly, ‘cause I guess you’re not supposed to talk about it. Maybe I’ll say I punched Jackson in practice. Dad’ll be so proud.” Stiles wiped away an imaginary tear.

 

“He won’t buy any of that.”

 

“As long as his mind doesn’t jump to ‘failed to fight off gang of werewolf misfits, was knocked out, was locked in a basement, was tied up, was beaten, was knocked out, was rescued,’ I may be able to avoid being grounded for the rest of my natural-born life.” Stiles suddenly noticed Derek’s expression. “It wasn’t your fault,” he reminded him. He got the feeling he was going to be saying that a lot until his injuries healed.

 

Derek shook his head but didn’t answer.

 

He cleaned Stiles’ split knuckles, rubbed ointment on his chafed wrists, and helped him change for bed.

 

He wrapped his arms around Stiles, held him close to his chest. Stiles fell asleep feeling safe and secure. And loved.

 

\---

 

Two weeks later, Boyd walked in on them doing it in the loft. He was scarred for life, but would eventually bring it up many years down the line at their joint bachelor party.

 

Erica was exultant but miffed they “couldn’t have waited another few days.” Isaac was weirded out and wanted to know what couch they had used so he could avoid sitting there forever. Scott split his betting pool earnings with Stiles, because that’s what best friends do.

**Author's Note:**

> Okay! To those of you looking for an update of Witching Hour, it's coming, I swear. I was just having a crappy night last night, so I shit out nearly 7,000 words of angsty, fluffy Sterek. Go me. I hope you enjoyed it~


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